Smother
by maraudings
Summary: He's looking at her, a mixture of pity and sorrow filling his gaze. She doesn't want either. She doesn't deserve either.


**title: **smother  
**rating: **t  
**word count: **1,464  
**disclaimer: **belongs to the bbc.  
**a/n: **slightly AU, as the ending is nothing like what happened in the finale (wasn't my intention but i'm not even bothered by that fact). sorry for any typos/grammar problems you may find. i tried to get them all, but there's only so many times you can read your own writing before it all starts to blend together.

* * *

_-smother-_

* * *

She hadn't noticed him the night of Lady Helen's welcoming feast. She hadn't felt the way his eyes had lingered on her crimson dress for longer than what was deemed appropriate. When Arthur was pulled out of the range of the dagger, she hadn't given much thought to the lanky, dark haired boy.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her eyes began to search him out at feasts. She couldn't remember the first time she was disappointed when they didn't run into each other during the day. She could not remember when exactly he became much more than the lanky, dark haired boy to her.

Out of everyone, he was special. The normal traditions and unspoken rules of the court didn't faze him. He knew how to laugh. He was kind and caring. He was a breath of fresh air.

They were friends.

-x-

It was a decision that didn't need deciding upon. The moment the idea that she could have magic crossed her mind she immediately thought of him. And so she went to him. Because if anyone could have made it less paralyzing it would be him.

But he didn't.

-x-

The feeling of the hemlock sliding down her throat was perhaps the only thing she can remember clearly about that day. The suffocating darkness that swarmed her vision, her thoughts, her consciousness. The warmth of Merlin's hands on her arms. The coldness they could not keep at bay.

She didn't understand. They were friends.

-x-

Of course she had questioned it. How could she not? She spent every waking moment going over that scene in her mind— his expressions, his demeanor. _They were friends_.

"Don't be ridiculous," Morgause tells her when she voices her confusion. "You were never friends. Nobody in Camelot is your friend."

After a while it was hard to think anything different.

-x-

She allowed herself to be found, as her sister's plan required her to. She placed herself back into the court, as her sister's plan required her to. She got back on Uther's good side, as her sister's plan required her to.

He had the nerve to apologize. He looked her straight in the eye and told her how he hadn't wanted to. How glad he was that she was back.

They were never friends.

-x-

She constantly found him to be getting in her way. She felt him shadowing her steps like a plague, persistent in his attempts to thwart her.

"_It doesn't have to be like this. We can find another way."_

He looked so hurt, so desperate. It made her sick.

-x-

Eventually, he wins.

She takes Morgause away from the kingdom, to a hovel in a hillside. Her sister heals over time, but she is never the same. Weaker, more frail. Eventually she passes, sacrificed for the hope of overthrowing the Pendragons. But it is wasted, and her last ally is gone.

The loneliness comes like the plague.

For the second time, he has thrown her word into a tailspin.

-x-

_Emrys._

The name followed her everywhere. Whispered in the wind, in the leaves, in the flow of the streams and rivers. It mocked her.

_He is your destiny, and he is your doom._

_-x-_

She had been lonely before, haunting the halls of the castle with no one to turn to. But this was agonizing.

The daytime was cruel, reminding her of everything she used to be. Of day rides with Arthur. Of afternoons spent laughing with Gwen. Of the sounds and the smells of the citadel wafting in through her bedroom window. Her hut seemed emptier in the sunlight, void of all light and life.

The night was merciless. The shadows would play tricks on her in the darkness. She heard voices whispering in her ear. Her sleep was plagued with nightmares so frequently they all ran together until she was convinced she was living in one.

It never ended.

-x-

Red cloaks. Red blood. A black crow.

It's the third time she's had this vision. The third time she has awoken in a cold sweat.

_"Help me, Emrys! Please..."_

-x-

Uther was dead.

She should feel happy—elated, that the tyrant was finally gone. But she doesn't.

Emptiness is all she feels.

-x-

_I thought we were friends._

She thought that once, too.

-x-

Two years. Two years of darkness.

It consumed her until there was nothing left. She forgets who she is once or twice, forgets that she even exists.

Perhaps it was better that way.

-x-

He came to her once, when she was swimming on the brink of deliria. He's laughing with a light heart, telling her all about her brother's latest idiotic demands and what he did to cause him annoyance. He tells her about Gwen, about her kindness and her grace as Queen.

It was then she realized she has forgotten how to smile.

One day, he tells her, she can come home. She will be received back into the court. She will be redeemed for what she has done. She won't be lonely anymore.

He continues on speaking, and after a while she stops listening to his words and instead focuses on his being. He smells the same, an earthy scent of hay and clove that served as a reminder of his duties. She has missed the scent.

A clattering from her captors above pulls her attention, and she almost laughs.

He was never here.

No one was coming for her.

-x-

When she escapes, something gets left behind.

She no longer remembers her original purpose. Any shred of her old life was obliterated in the dark. What remained was anger. Hatred.

No one had come for her. No one cared whether or not she lived or died.

It had started with a sip of water and ended in a dark pit.

They were never friends.

-x-

She is a caged animal set free. Ruthless, merciless.

Her lust for vengeance is all she lives for.

They needed to feel that pain that she felt, needed to know the loss.

It was only fair.

-x-

It feels like she's watching herself slide the poison in his mouth, watching as she sends him tumbling down the cliff with a nudge of her boot.

It's nothing he doesn't deserve, though she can't seem to stay and watch him suffer.

-x-

_It is Merlin._

The coldness returns.

-x-

It was her vision. From the corpses to the red cloaks to the black crow, it was what she had seen. The only difference was Emrys, who stood above her with dirt smeared on his young, shaven face and in his dark hair. He looks tired. "Is this really what you wanted, Morgana?"

She almost said the words with him.

He's looking at her, a mixture of pity and sorrow filling his gaze. She doesn't want either. She doesn't deserve either.

She stares at the tip of his blade inches from her face. It wavers, showing the true feelings of its wielder. She doesn't feel angry at the idea of being defeated. She doesn't feel as if she should blast him aside and flee, if she could even manage enough strength for that.

No. Morgana Pendragon was done.

She turns her head, not able to look at him anymore.

"Just do it."

She can hear him breathing. She counts each breath as she waits for death.

The sword lowers. "I-" He starts, drawing her gaze back to his blue eyes. "I can't."

Her brows knit. She doesn't understand.

"This is my fault," He sounds desperate. He looks desperate. "And I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen."

There were many things she could to say to him. She could demand answers for what he did to her. She could scream herself hoarse over her abandonment. But she doesn't.

"It's too late. What is done cannot be undone," She says. "No matter how hard you wish it so."

"I don't want to kill you." His voice is almost carried away in the wind. "I never did."

_It's useless._

"No, it's not useless." He takes a step towards her, blue eyes swimming. "It can't be useless."

His eyes. They looked exactly the same as they did all those years ago, when she would catch his gaze across the banquet hall. When he would come to her chambers bearing flowers. When they would laugh together.

When he held her as she gasped for breath.

"Merlin," Her eyes pricked and stung. "Merlin, please. Do it."

They were never friends.


End file.
